


One And Nineteen More

by makelovelikewar



Category: The Room Where It Happened (Podcast)
Genre: Songfic, Sort Of, The Bleed, sad cowboy garbage, what happens when you're part of an imperialist machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makelovelikewar/pseuds/makelovelikewar
Summary: Vaguely inspired by the Johnny Cash cover of Big Iron, No-Merit is out on a investigation and things go, um, not great.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	One And Nineteen More

The T.RU.C.C. rumbled along the dirt road. You'd think that when they took the wheels off things like this they would run smoother, but that had never seemed to be the case. He sat in the back, the brim of his hat pulled way down. For the last few hours he'd been pretending to sleep. It had been a two-day ride from the port, and No-Merit had reached his fill of idle conversation with the driver. They were a friendly sort, and No-Merit wasn't holding that against them, but the work he was intending to do here didn't really lend itself to jovial talks about food and music.

The thundering vehicle slowly moved through the southside of Agua Fria. Well, technically, the proper name for the place was the Agua Fria Mineral and Refining Company Residential Site 15, but folks had a tendency to shorten things like that. It was a little mining town but did show signs that it might be something more in the future. The T.RU.C.C clambered to a stop in front of a little saloon. He didn't know if it had much of a name other than that. Like a lot of places like this, the only indication of what this was were the tall, stenciled letters on the side. 

Hopping from the back, pulling his hat off and holding it to his chest, No-Merit made his way up to the driver. "I appreciate the ride. Don't feel the need to stay on my account. I can always find another ride," No-Merit said. 

The driver was young, with bright, warm eyes, a shaved head covered by a faded ball cap and a beard that was a month or so from looking good. They beamed at No-Merit as they spoke, "Nah, it's ok. I mean, you mentioned that this would be quick right? I'll get us refueled and grab some food. Hell, you'll probably be done before me." 

No-Merit's expression grew darker as he let a cold, "Maybe," slip from him before turning to walk into the saloon.

The saloon was a bare, spartan place. A few sparsely populated tables, a grainy monitor on the wall, and the bar such as it was. The conversations didn't necessarily stop, but they did become more hushed. He could feel their eyes on him, their gaze taking a familiar path from his face to his hip. There hung the massive dragoon-model revolver he carried. He'd been issued something smaller, more reasonable, that held more rounds, but this is what he carried in the war, and it was what he would carry now. He could feel their eyes shift again, across to his other hip where the dingy brass star hung.He didn't try to hide that he was a marshal. Wearing it out like that usually helped speed things along.

No-Merit moved slowly to the bar, pulling a stool over while the eyes of the room bored into the back of his head. The barkeep came over, the look of worry already seeping into his expression. 

"What can I get you to drink, officer?" 

No-Merit kept staring into the man's eyes as he spoke. "Nothing for me. I'm on the clock right now." 

The man's eyes faltered and darted up, somewhere behind No-Merit. He kept on, "You see, there seems to be a bit of an outlaw problem around here. All kinds of camps and settlements have been reporting thefts. It's all stuff that makes sense. Medicine that fetches a good price on the secondary market. Equipment and supplies a gang would need. One name keeps come up though." No-Merit locked his gaze with the bartender's again. "Redd."

No-Merit leaned back in his stool. The old, wooden thing creaked under his weight as the eyes in the room weighed even heavier on him. "Just about everywhere has reported something missing, well, except for here." The tension in the room was almost too thick to move through. The bartender's eyes kept rapidly darting to behind No-Merit and then back. "See, I'm thinking he offers y'all protection, though, to be honest, outside if the not getting robbed part, I don't see what y'all are gettin outta the deal." 

"Seems like you got it all figured out there, law man." The voice rang out from behind No-Merit, and a pit began to form in his stomach. It wasn't because the person had gotten the drop on him. He'd figured that someone was back there from the way the bartender was acting. No, it was the timbre of the voice, and as No-Merit turned on his stool, the pit grew into a chasm. There stood Redd. He didn't need to introduce himself, the way he carried himself, the well-loved pistol on his hip and the slicked-back hair so orange you could probably see it from orbit announced that fact. Worst of all, Redd was probably nineteen, maybe twenty. He was putting on a hard expression but it did little to hide youthful features. 

No-Merit began to slowly rise to his feet. He kept his hand away from his pistol. Redd seemed to be doing the same. Seemed like neither of them really wanted to be in this situation.

"So I take it you're Redd?" 

The young man nodded, and No-Merit's eyes darted behind him, taking in a few kids not much younger than the outlaw. He was beginning to put the pieces together. No-Merit had read the entire thing wrong. Redd wasn't protecting the town, the town was protecting him. The supplies were for this place. It's probably why it looked to be thriving so much better than others No-Merit had seen. 

"Ain't you a little young to be a vicious outlaw?" He was trying to give the young man an out, but the little snarl curling in the corner of Redd's mouth let him know he'd played his hand too hard. 

"Young person can kill just as good as an old one." Redd spat the words at No-Merit, not realizing just how deep the word cut the former career soldier. 

"Fair enough," said No-Merit.

The room was dead quiet, and the silence between No-Merit and Redd was heavy like fog. Their eyes darted around each other. Redd was looking for an opening, but No-Merit desperately was searching for a way out. 

"Look, Redd," No-Merit's voice was tired. It carried the weight of a lost war and lost people. "It doesn't have to be like this. I don't want it to be like this. I can get you, hell and your gang, out of here for a while. You let the heat die down. I'll get you set up with some real nice people. You heard of the Johnnies?" It had been two years since he'd last talked to Max. Not a single word of that last conversation had been a kind one, but they would understand this. 

The hard stance Redd had taken began to soften as confusion filled his face. "Why would you do that for me?" 

In truth, No-Merit didn't know. He'd faced down outlaws before, but they had been the sort of broken old dogs of war like himself. Standing here, across from a kid who had to grow up in the broken world No-Merit had failed to help fix in the war, well, it broke something in him. "You all deserve a chance," he paused for a moment, feeling like he was receiving some folksy proverb Max would say, "everybody does." 

Redd took a small step back almost as if the words had physically hit him. It was clear to No-Merit that the boy had never let himself think of a different life. His gaze shifted down. As Redd was lost in thought, for the briefest moment, hope began to fill the chasm of dread in No-Merit's chest. Then Redd's expression shifted. It twisted in an angry snarl as he spoke, "You ain't tricking me law man, and you ain't taking me in." Of course he didn't trust No-Merit. How could he when No-Merit wore a little brass star that carried with it the full weight of the boot that had kept the boy pushed down his whole life. 

Redd's whole body jerked as his arm quickly shifted to his hip. A thunderous crack rang out, and the window behind Redd shattered. Smoke billowed from the end of No-Merit's barrel. He'd hardly even registered his hands moving. Redd crumpled backward in a heap as blood poured from the hole in his chest and pooled under him. No-Merit slammed his gun back into his holster. Redd’s group began to move from their table, though they froze as No-Merit threw up a hand. “Don’t. Please.” His voice was small and weary as he knelt down beside Redd’s body. He checked his pulse. Nothing. He had probably died before he even hit the ground. No final words to give. No absolution for the monster that had come into town and taken a boy’s life. 

No-Merit took Redd’s hand as he fished a device from his pocket. He pressed the limp thumb to a reader and a sickeningly pleasant chime rang out. He hit the button on the side, speaking into it. “Officer Vernal reporting. Suspect found. Confronted suspect, They went for a weapon. I shot back.” He looked up from the device to Redd’s group, then around to the petrified bar. “Suspect was working alone. No accomplices. Killed in the field. Identity verified. Verification code Charlie Alpha Alpha Five Delta.” 

No-Merit stood and made his way to the bar. The bartender was trembling, white as a sheet as No-Merit slipped the device back into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took an account chit and laid it on the bar. “Make sure he gets a proper funeral,” he glanced over his shoulder to Redd’s group. They had gathered around the body. They stared daggers into No-Merit, some crying. “Get them what they need.” 

He turned to leave when the bartender spoke, his voice cracking. “Aren’t … aren’t you gonna get in trouble for lying?” 

No-Merit paused, his eyes pulled back to the face of Redd. Eyes wide and motionless. “Who cares?”

The driver returned to find No-Merit in the back of the T.R.U.C.C. again. He wasn’t pretending to sleep this time, staring at the communication device as he rolled it in his hand. The driver threw a bag of supplies near No-Merit, pulling their cap off and wiping the sweat away. 

“So I heard, um,” they paused, No-Merit freezing as they began to speak. “You, uh, you get what you came here for?” The silence hung for a few moment as the driver got back behind the wheel. 

“Not really,” No-Merit spoke in a low voice that was soon drowned out by the rumble. 

The drive back this time was much more quiet. Most of it No-Merit spent typing, then deleting, then retyping a message. As they neared the port, he settled on something. “You were right,” was quickly tapped out before No-Merit hit send. He didn’t know if that was still Max’s contact information. He really hoped it was.


End file.
